Bad, Bad Company
by voxinatwitch
Summary: "Well?" The driver called through the rolled down window, "You aren't one of those black-eyed freaks, are you? So? What are you waiting for? Get in!" ... A woman arriving home gets more than she bargained for when she encounters the Winchesters in the wake of a demon-orchestrated emergency.
1. Chapter 1: Run!

Katrina pulled up into the parking spot for her apartment, grabbing her purse and her grocery bag from the passenger's seat before climbing out.

She had made her way halfway up the long sidewalk from the parking lot to the apartment block, grocery bag in hand when a pair of men came running up, nearly knocking her over as they rushed past.

Two guys running as if for their lives.

The shorter of them turned his head as he fled, shouting. "It's gonna blow. _Run!_"

"What?!" She snapped, lines of confusion forming on her face. Blow? What was-

_Bang. _

She yelped as a muffled explosion shook the air from the direction of one of the apartment buildings. Eyes wide, she took off back toward her car, mashing the beeper to unlock it as she ran.

As she rounded the corner in the covered walkway, coming into view of her parking spot, she startled upon the realization that someone was already in her car. She ran faster now, shouting angrily as she did so.

Yet, she was too late, she realized, gut sinking, as she reached the halfway point, the vehicle reversed, tires squealing, and sped away. She stopped in her tracks, turning as if to find someone or something to help the situation. Yet, there was no one, nothing. Only others running from their buildings in the distance.

"No! God! What the hell is going on?!" She shouted, her frustration bursting out into the air.

Another explosion shattered the silence in the moment after her exclamation. "Oh, shit," she muttered, and started running again, scrambling down the steps to the parking lot.

As she neared the center of the lot, she realized the futility of the situation. What was she going to do? She couldn't drive away, now could she? Someone had stolen her car!

She sputtered, grabbing her cellphone from her pocket as she kept running, fingers fumbling to dial 911.

"Hello? What's your emergency?" The operator asked after one ring.

"Yeah—I—I think there's been an explosion at my apartment building, and also, somebody's stolen my car!" She panted into the phone.

"OK, Miss, can you give me your location—"

"No, wait—" She whispered as she startled, flinching, the phone moving away form her ear as another man came running toward her, a brandishing a bloodied knife which caught the light. She she dove behind a bush in nearby a flowerbed, out of the way, and out of the man's sight, she hoped.

She watched from around the side of the bush as the man approached a car, turning so that the light hit his face momentarily. His eyes, she realized, were black. Completely back, as if the pupils had exploded and taken over the entirety of the irises and whites. The man snapped his body back in the other direction, ramming his elbow into the glass of the car window, with a dull thwack, it cracked, and upon another blow, shattered.

"Oh, shit," she muttered, trying to catch her breath as she crouched behind the bushes. "What the hell's going on...their eyes...it's like they're...zombies...demons... ...oh, no, oh...oh god..."

A black car came speeding up, tires squealing as it rounded the turn near her hiding spot. She stood, looking up over the bush.

"Well?" The driver called through the rolled down window, "You aren't one of those black-eyed sons of bitches, are you? So? What are you waiting for? Get in!"

"Who are you?!" She shouted, "And what the hell's going on?!"

"No time for that! We've got to get out of here," another, very tall man explained hurriedly from the passenger's seat.

Taking another look over her shoulder, she saw smoke pouring from the apartments, flames leaping over the roofs, and the sound of fire alarms blaring in the distance.

"Fine!" She exclaimed, tearing open the back door, scrambling into seat. "Get me out of here!"

She slammed the door shut as the driver sped away.


	2. Chapter 2: Do I Know You?

She leaned back on the leather seat, panting as the burst of adrenaline began to wear off.

The driver floored it, engine roaring as the car flew over the pavement, out over the long drive and back onto the main road.

"Wh…who are you, anyways?" She asked, finding her voice, which was small and shaky under the sound of the engine.

"I'm Sam," The guy in the passenger's seat turned his head as he spoke.

"Wait…no," she muttered, shaking her head. "I know you."

"How? Because I've never seen you before," Sam replied.

"No, you're on TV," she said, her voice filled with indcredulity.

"That so?" Asked the driver, who she looked at in the rearview.

"No, this isn't for real," she muttered, shaking her head. "This can't be. Because….you're not real. This…isn't real."

"Yeah, well, sorry, 'fraid it is," the driver replied.

Dean, she realized. His name was Dean. Sam…and Dean….

"No, you don't get it. This….isn't possible. Because I'm pretty sure you're from that show…and….oh, god, this is your car too—" Her voice was shaking now.

"Yeah, what about it? '67 Impala," Dean asked.

"No, not the car….this! _This isn't happening_—because—this is _reality_ and—there's no such thing as the supernatural!"

At this, the two looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

"Welcome to our world," Dean said.

"Oh, no, no—" She sputtered.

"Hey, relax. We're going _away_ from the crazy right now, not toward it," he continued.

"My apartment," she murmured, the reality of what had just happened coming back to her. "My car…."

"Oh, shit," Dean said. "You lived there?"

"Yes!"

"Uh…hate to break it to you, but it's gonna be sky high in less than five minutes," Dean said.

"Yeah, we already did our best to get everybody out of there, what with the fire alarms," Sam explained.

"Oh, god…." She trailed off, unable to say more.

"Look, you got out though, which is a good thing," Sam offered.

"Yeah, it's great," she spat the words, sarcasm dripping.

"Our house burned down when we were young, so—" he began, but she cut him off.

"Yeah, I know! I've watched the damn show for years!" She snapped.

"Show?" Sam and Dean asked at once.

"Yeah. You're on friggin' TV, OK? Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Instant Video, everything. And assuming this isn't just me having a psychotic break, then somehow…_.it's_ _all real_."

"Back up," Dean said. "We're on TV? And you don't just happen to be a totally creepy fangirl that knows us from those books Chuck wrote?"

"No. Not books, that's in your universe. You're on TV. You play on the CW on Tuesdays, although I watch online mainly when I have the time…."

"Ooookay, that's totally not creepy at all," Dean joked.

"Wait a minute. Don't you remember, that time Cas sent us to the parallel universe, where everybody thought we were actors—" Sam began.

"Yes! That was because that's how it's supposed to be. You two are actors, not hunters! You work in Vancouver, and….oh, god. This is so screwed up…."

"Yeah, I remember," Dean replied. "But…seriously. So, what, we're back there again?!"

"This isn't Vancouver," she mumbled. "This is Townshend Virginia. And _you are in the wrong universe_!"

"How the hell's that sposed to work, anyways? Cas never explained it." Dean asked.

"Something with—" Sam said.

"Yeah, scifi time travel parallel universes string theory, blah blah, whatever! Point is, this is NOT how it's supposed to be. You brought your damn monsters here, _blew up my apartment, and stole my car!_" She was nearly shouting by now.


	3. Chapter 3: Lifesavers

Dean scoffed. "No, that last little bit isn't right. See, _we _didn't bring them here, we followed them, and the place was already blowing up. _That's_ all on them."

"They cast that spell, and we couldn't stop it. Believe me, _we tried_. We spent the past 45 minutes trying to undo it before deciding it wasn't worth getting ourselves blown up over. And your car. I mean, it sucks, but we're getting you away from there, aren't we?" Sam explained.

"Do you think I give a shit who did it? This is _your_ job, you're the hunters. You have got to stop them." She sounded dangerously close to crying.

"Yeah, uh, what do you think we're doing? Y'know, besides saving your ass," Dean snarked.

"Look, she did just lose her home and her car, and barely got away alive," Sam said. "Y'think maybe you should go a little easier on her? I mean, she does have a point. They're from our universe, and we're kinda the ones stuck with controlling them."

"Where exactly are you heading right now, if you're actively fighting them like you say you are? The giant fireball's back the other way," she said, exasperated.

"In case you didn't notice, it's still kind of on fire," Dean replied. "We can't go in that! I mean, yeah, we're pretty tough, but we're not friggin' fireproof, OK? Let the fire department handle that. Right now, we're gonna get something to eat, coz we spent all of today chasing those demons who did that. And I'm really freaking hungry."

"Oh….ok," she said, "Sorry….I just…god, everything. It's gone…. But..you're right. You should eat. And I need a drink…."

"Yeah, by the way, do you know anywhere good?" Sam asked.

"Yes…there's a bar and grill, right up the street from here, three blocks, if you turn onto Ash, it's there at the corner," she said, shaking her head.

"And I will totally….oh, oh shit," She said, looking down for her purse, which was still slung cross-body. She looked down into it, though, it seemed a bit too empty. Just now, she realized what wasn't there. "My wallet—god, they got my car, my apartment,_ and my wallet?!_"

"OK, before you start screaming again, just, _please_, chill. We'll get you whatever you want to eat," Dean offered "Just…dude, dealing with demons and exploding things is enough for one day."

"Oh, okay," she said, catching her breath. "You're right, I shouldn't be…freaking this much…I just….yknow….everything…" She gestured as it to pantomime an explosion with her hands.

Sam chuckled at this. "Yeah," he mumbled, nodding. "We'll get you fixed up. Just, really, relax."

"God, thank you. You guys are friggin lifesavers…" She trailed off, flushing.

"Oh, you don't say," Dean deadpanned, "I mean, we've only devoted our entire goddamned lives to hunting things that want to kill us just for the sake of saving people we'll never even get to know, who never even say a damn thank-you. So, y'know, it's not bad to hear. Hell, say it again if you want to."

"Yeah, no, I…I get it. I think…I mean…I've watched so many years' worth of your lives, fighting and…god. I mean I should really be handling this better, but—"

"Look, it's OK. If I wasn't used to this, I'm pretty sure I'd flip if we showed up and my house blew up. So…please, just relax. Let it be. We're gonna get you something to eat. We're almost there, yeah?" Sam soothed, making eye contact with her as he looked back over his shoulder.

She sighed shakily, nodding. "OK. And, yeah, this is it. Just turn up there…"


	4. Chapter 4: Over Supper

They had parked and gone into the grill, where they'd sat for several awkwardly silent minutes, the brothers attempting smalltalk to little avail. At least, until Sam made the mistake of asking her how she found the town.

"I double majored in cultural anthropology and cognitive neuroscience. I'm in grad school at Townshend University for my master's. And my laptop, that had my thesis on it! _Three years_ worth of research into a novel form of exposure therapy for OCD and specific phobias….all blown up! So excuse me for being mad. That's basically…. God, I don't even want to think about that right now. I have $150,000 in student loans already, plus interest—now my car, my apartment, I'm done. I am so, freaking done."

She tipped back her beer, gulping it.

"Didn't you keep a backup of it, though?" Sam said.

"Yes! But that's on my external hardrive, and… you know, that got blown up too, when my apartment exploded…" She trailed off, lowering her face in her hands.

"Yeah, but like, what is it anyways, is it something you can't redo?" Dean asked.

"No…it's a long-term study on the effects of a novel form of exposure therapy using carefully selected tv programs to augment the therapeutic progress."

"Uh, nevermind, forget I asked," Dean said, making a face as she spouted the jargon.

"Sorry, academic jargon. But the idea really was kind of cool," she said, lighting up for the first time since they'd spoken to her. "It's almost embarrassing to admit it, but I got the idea from watching your show. My thought was if the process of exposure therapy could be helped along by using a medium of exposure that involved an intrinsic reward—suspense and excitement, which people respond to positively. It would help make subjects more amenable to the therapy process and increase compliance, since it's built around programs that are designed to be inherently both frightening and enjoyable. The frightening aspect of it and the degree to which it was present was tailor picked to their specific needs. And it's something they could do from home, and would require fewer sessions. It would have helped affordability and convenience in addition to compliance… But that's gone. Everything from it, it's just gone." She sighed.

"Y'know, I understood maybe half that, but you're saying watching this show…that…whoever it is makes about our lives, that that gave you this idea?" Dean asked, his expression quizzical.

"Yeah…it's really kind of embarrassing talking about it though. I mean…seriously. You're…real…and…y'know…" She trailed off, her voice getting lower as she flushed slightly.

"Well, it's not like we haven't done worse," Sam offered, laughing. "Becky, oh, god, that was—"

"Oh, I know! I was laughing my ass off at that one," Katrina exclaimed. "But like, cringing at the same time…."

"Yeah," Both said at once.

"I mean, the cringing part. She…was not fun," Sam said.

"Yeah, no, I don't imagine so," Katrina returned.

"Hey, what's that?" Dean asked, as music began playing.

"Oh…." Katrina pulled out her phone from her pocket.

The tune continued as she checked the caller ID before answering. Sam and Dean made faces at each other as the words became audible.

'It's where my demons hide—'

"Hey," she said, answering.

"Ohmigod, Kat! I just heard! Ohmigod, I thought you were DEAD!" The girl on the other end shouted at her through the phone, so loudly Sam and Dean could hear.

"I know, I know," Katrina said. "But Laura, really. I'm, at least physically, OK. I'm…I'm not sure what I'm gonna do, everything's completely gone…but…I'm alright, at least. I'll call you back in a little bit, K? Bye."

"So…what was that about?" Sam asked.

"My friend. Laura. Apparently it's been on the national news, because she's in Oregon…"

"Yeah, but, that ringtone? I mean, really?" Dean cut in.

"Hey, that's my favorite song, Demons. By my favorite band, Imagine Dragons," she said. "Or…at least it used to be. I…don't think I want to listen to that one anymore…."

Both brothers laughed at this.

"A little close to home, huh?" Sam asked, taking a bite of his wrap.

"Yeah," she replied, laughing. "Or_…not home,_ anymore…."

"So, do you have somewhere you can spend the night?" Sam asked.

"I…no, I don't, actually," Katrina replied, shaking her head as she gulped more beer.

"What, no friends, relatives, nobody?" Dean prodded.

"No, I moved here for school. I don't have anyone, really." Her voice was somber. "I don't know what I'm gonna do." She rested her chin in her hands, sighing.

"Well, Dean and I might could set you up someplace for the night," Sam offered, looking to Dean as he spoke, who nodded his approval.

"Yeah, what the heck," Dean assented.

"Oh, my god, thank you!" She gushed, her voice nearly hysterical. "You have no idea—"

"Yeah, just chill, OK? I mean, we're not gonna make you live like some sorta refugee." Dean muttered, shaking his head.

"You're right. Sorry," she laughed. "I'm just…god. Really, it's just been so damn much to happen today."

"Yeah, well, that's our lives," Sam muttered, tilting his head as he took another drink of beer.


	5. Chapter 5: FBI Day

When they arrived, it was palpably awkward at the check in counter.

"Yeah, so, two rooms, two adults in one, one in another." Dean told the clerk, handing over a debit card.

"Paying for both?" The clerk asked.

"Yeah." Dean nodded, which elicited a cringe from Katrina.

Ugh, she thought. This is embarrassing.

"Look, really, it's nothing," Sam assured her from where he stood beside her, behind Dean.

"God, I feel awful about this," She muttered, shaking her head as she fought back the onslaught of emotion that burned in her face, threatening to surface again.

"Look, I'm pretty sure we spend more than this much on booze on weekends off, and don't even get me started on gas, so—"

This earned a chuckle from her. "Yeah, what does that car of yours get, anyways? 15 miles to the gallon?"

"I'll have you know, Baby gets a full 17 miles per gallon highway," Dean corrected, making a playfully disdainful face over his shoulder at them.

"Yeah, coz that's the picture of blisteringly good fuel efficiency," Sam cracked.

"Oh, shut up," Dean snarked, laughing as the clerk handed over their card keys.

He held one out to Katrina, telling her, "We're room 311, and you're 315."

"Yeah," Sam said, "Let us know if you need anything."

"I will. Thanks again, guys," she replied, waving good night as she split from them to make her way toward her room.

After she shut the door behind her, locking the top and bottom locks securely, she sighed, collapsing on the bed, letting the tension of her tired muscles drain out into the mattress. She lay like this for time indeterminate before kicking off her shoes and curling up further up the bed, pulling the blankets up around herself, where she drifted off into a dream-riddled sleep.

She was midway through running into a burning building with an empty bucket when the scrap of a song started again, penetrating the burning walls of flame on either side of her.

_'__Don't get too close, it's dark inside. It's where my—'_

She opened her eyes, the burning building evaporating to reveal the dark motel room she was in. She groaned, sitting up to reach for her phone where she'd dropped it on the bedside table.

"Hey, Laura," she sighed.

"Dude! Way for calling me back," her friend snapped.

"Wh—oh, yeah. Sorry bout that. Wh—what time is it anyways?"

"S'eight here," Laura said pointedly. "Thought you'd be up by now. It's what, eleven in Townshend now? Where are you, anyways? You said your place burned."

"They put me up in a motel," Kat explained.

"What, the Red Cross?" Laura asked.

"No, two guys—"

"Ooooh, Kat. Two guys. That sounds fun. Do tell, though. Are they hot? Where'd you meet them, anyways?" Her friend gushed.

"Sure, lots of fun," Katrina deadpanned. "And, yeah, they're pretty damn hot," she said, "But we're not really in circumstances for fun right now. And, besides, they're brothers. It would be one of em. Anyways...we got something to eat last night then came back here and got me a room. I passed out pretty quick."

"Oh. Your own room? And, what, two hot guys and nothing exciting happened?" Laura sounded disappointed now.

"Yeah, no fun yet. And I somehow doubt today's gonna be much better, either." She frowned as she spoke.

"Look, you said it's what—eleven here? I—I better get going. There's gotta be stuff I need to do, police or somebody to talk to, and I need to call my insurance agent and….god _all sorts_ of crap…" she trailed off, the heaviness of a migrane already threatening to descend on her.

"Oh ok," Laura said, "I'm just glad you're in one piece. Call me back though, and please, pics of these hotties."

"Yeah, sure," Kat said, shaking her head. "Bye."

She hung up, shutting her phone to lie back in the bed for a moment, seriously considering not getting back up, when there was a knock on the door.

Damnit, she thought. Can't a girl get any rest, she huffed to herself as she went to answer it.

Pulling it open, she saw the Winchesters standing in the doorway, only this time wearing suits.

"What is this, FBI day," she muttered.

"Yeah," Sam shrugged.

"Should've been," Dean continued the thought. "Except they were already there, and apparently, our badges don't match their layout they use in this dump of a world."

"And…you're back here…because…?" She made a face as she spoke, the sunlight coming in the door from outside just a little too bright.

"We need a way in the complex," Sam explained.

"And what exactly's that have to do with me?" she asked, leaning exhaustedly against the door frame.

"Dude, you look like you're about to pass out," Dean observed.

"Yeah, I feel it, too," she muttered back. "Why don't you come on in while you explain whatever the hell this new problem is. The sun's killing me."

Dean mumbled in agreement, the brothers venturing in to the room behind her, taking seats in the small armchairs at the far end of the room, while she collapsed onto the bed, barely maintaining a reclined posture as she slumped against the headboard.

"So...they blocked you from your feds thing..." she muttered, squeezing her forehead in her hands.

"Yeah. So we need a way in. And they're letting residents in with supervision to get stuff."

"Oh. Oh!" She sat up just a little, excitement riddling her face for a moment before it fell again. "God, I...I don't know whether to be excited, or terrified... I mean, what will be left? And...ugh. It's gonna be full of ashes... These might be the only clothes I still own..."

"Dude...really?" Dean asked. "We need your help to stop these demons, and...that's the best you come up with?"

She gave him a withering stare. "Have I mentioned in addition to losing everything in the past 24 hours, my head feels like it's gonna explode?"

"No," Sam replied. "What's up with that? And we can help you find you something to get you through, if, y'know, nothing's survived."

"OK," She muttered, shaking her head. "Get me some excedrin migrane, and..I guess we'll get going..."

"See?" Dean said. "It's not gonna kill ya to help us out. I mean, we did get you out of the blast range, and-"

He trailed off as he received a disapproving look from Sam.

"Point being," Sam replied, "We'll get in there and see if we can't find anything to help us figure out how to stop them. Keep this from happening to anybody else."

"Yeah," she nodded, sitting up. "I'm really sorry, guys. This is just becoming a shit world, yknow?"

Sam laughed. "Don't we know it? Ours went down the drain first."

"Oh, OK, so what are we, then," Dean remarked, "The anti-apocalyptic plumbers?"

She shook her head, smirking at the joke slightly as she pulled on her shoes.

"That's us I guess. The anti-apocalyptic plumbers."


End file.
